


Warmth

by callmerachel



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Reader-Insert, Violence, but i don't think it's graphic?, jack is so cute, there's a freezer involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmerachel/pseuds/callmerachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reader gets kidnapped and beaten in a freezer. hotch loses his cool (HAHAHA GET IT ITS A PUN i’m secretly a dad). when she’s found, hotch keeps her warm. fast forward six months, and the cold isn’t so bad anymore… lots of fluff at the end, but some angst in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> 1) never let me make dad jokes in the summary again.   
> 2) this is a request from tumblr :) i hope it does it justice!  
> 3) JJ, shit honey i'm sorry for forcing you to make an OOC decision.   
> 4) let me know what you think!

“How could the unsub be freezing the bodies?”

The team sat around the table in the room designated for them at the local police precinct. The air conditioning blasted on high to cool them down from the soggy Alabama heat.

“He could be using deep freezers,” you said, pulling your y/h/c hair into a high bun, the back of your neck damp. “They’re the perfect size for a body.”

“You think about freezing bodies often?” Morgan smirked at you.

“My great aunt had one. I used to hide in it during hide and seek.” You shrugged.

Reid shook his head. “The injuries are inflicted in freezing temperatures. It would have to be bigger than that.”

“What about an industrial size freezer? Like those restaurants use?” you said.

Hotch nodded and called Garcia. “Garcia, can you get a list of people with industrial-size freezers in Marion County?”

“Not in the city though!” you said. “It would have to be somewhere not very populated.”

Rossi chuckled. “So the whole county?”

You threw him a glare. You came from a small town yourself. “No way; rural people are way too nosy for this to be happening anywhere but an isolated location.”

“Got it! There are three people who have bought industrial freezers who live in isolation.” Your phones pinged. “I’ve sent the info to your phones. Stay warm, crimefighters! Garcia out.”

Hotch stood quickly. “Ok, JJ and Y/L/N, take Micheal Fowler’s house. Rossi, Blake, check out Christopher Ellison. Morgan, Reid and I will go to Tommy Smith.”

Hotch glanced at you quickly and you felt a soft blush spread across your cheeks. You ducked your head and headed out to one of the SUVs with JJ.

“What was that about?” JJ asked once you were on the road.

“What?”

“You were as red as a tomato when we left.”

“O-oh.” You tightened your hands on the steering wheel. “It’s just hot, that’s all.”

JJ looked at you and smirked. “Couldn’t be because Hotch looked at you, could it?”

“W-what! No, no,” you said, shaking your head. And you thought you had hidden your crush on him so well!

JJ laughed. “It’s ok, Y/N. He’s a pretty handsome man.”

You agreed with her. But it wasn’t just his piercing eyes or the toned physique you knew was hiding underneath those suits. It was his caring nature, his paternal protection over the team, and what a great father he was to Jack. He deserved so much happiness in his life.

“Have you guys been on a date?”

“JJ!” You blushed harder. “No, though I’ve been helping Jack out with some of his harder reading assignments.” And you had had dinner at the Hotchner household a few times, but it was simply as a family friend. Nothing more.

“We need to focus on Micheal Fowler. What’s his background?”

JJ listed it off: once a butcher in the town, but when the big-box supermarket was built, he had to resort to game processing.

As you drove up the driveway, you shuddered. “I just don’t understand how someone can be around all of that uncooked meat and muscle and blood all of the time.”

The house was quaint, if looking a little worse for wear. There was a vegetable garden in the front yard, and a large work shed in the back. Wind chimes sang from the porch.

“Alright, you check the house, JJ. I’ll check the back.”

JJ looked at you worriedly. “Should we really be splitting up?”

“It’ll be fine. I don’t think he’s dangerous. And besides,” you said, rolling up your sleeves. “The quicker we do this the quicker we get out of this heat.”

JJ laughed. “Just be careful, ok?”

“I’ll be fine.”

The work shed was neatly maintained, though the smell of blood was so strong even the air tasted metallic. “Micheal Fowler?” You knocked on the screen door. “FBI. I just need to ask a few questions.”

After a few moments of silence, you pulled on the screen door’s handle. It was open. You walked in, hand hovering over your gun. “Micheal Fowler?”

“Shouldn’ta come in here,” you heard a deep voice say behind you. Something hard hit you in the back of your skull and the world turned to black.

—

“Hotch, I don’t know how it happened, I’m so sorry, he knocked me out and when I came to Fowler and Y/N were gone, I don’t know where they are—“

“JJ, are you still there?” Hotch was terse.

“Yes, yes, they aren’t on the premises, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“We’ll be there in ten.”

—

When you came to, you were in an industrial freezer, wearing just your bra and panties. Your arms were chained to a butcher’s hook; your toes barely grazed the floor.

“Where are you, you son of a bitch!”

“Now, where are your manners?” The drawl was different than the voice that had attacked you. A man wearing khakis and a button-up suddenly stood in front of you as you were spun around. Fowler was standing in the corner. “I bring you in from that unbearable hot and this is the thanks I get?”

You struggled against your bindings. “Let me go!”

He slapped you. “Now you listen here, Miss FBI,” he hissed into your ear. “No one is going to find you, no one is going to save you, no one is going to mess up my plan.”

“And just what is your plan?”

He looked at you with a maniacal smile on his face. “Why, teach the world some Southern manners, of course!”

—

“Derek!” Garcia’s voice sounded wet from the speakerphone.

“We’re all here, Garcia. What do you have?” The team was somber.

“Someone open their laptop.” Morgan scrambled to open his.

Rossi leaned over his shoulder. “Oh my God.”

On the screen was a feed of the freezer you were in, your body hung like a cow carcass. 

“T-the description says ‘How to teach a woman to be a lady,’” Reid said, running his hand over his pants repeatedly. 

Hotch was silent. JJ stood behind him, looking at your body, twisting futilely.

Two unsubs came into the screen, hoods over their faces. One looked at the camera and gave a thumbs up.

“T-turn the volume on,” Garcia whispered.

“Are you gonna be a sweet gal and thank us for bringing you in out of the heat?” one unsub said, his Southern drawl lifting the ‘r’s out of his speech.

“He’s got money,” Blake said. “That accent doesn’t match the poverty of this area.”

“I’m not a ‘sweet gal,’” you hissed. “I’m a woman who doesn’t need to thank you for shit!”

The second unsub punched you from behind, hitting you in your right kidney. “Sounds like you need some manners, bitch,” he said.

“His Rs are harder; he’s from this area,” Blake said softly.

“That would be Micheal Fowler, then,” Rossi murmured.

They took turns, hitting you, asking you outdated sexist questions. When you couldn’t respond, blood and spit drooling out of your mouth, the first man shook out his wrist.

“I think that’s enough for right now,” he said, smirking. “Maybe if you think for a little while, you’ll learn something.”

You shook your head minutely as Fowler walked out of the freezer. “N-not from you,” you whispered.

At once, the first man had a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. “Now you listen here, bitch,” he said, his spit flying into your face. “You will learn not to talk back and you will learn to listen. If you don’t, I’ll just kill you that much sooner.” He released your throat and you gasped, hardly able to get in any air before he punched you in the ribs.

“Goddamnit!” Hotch roared back at the police station, watching as you convulsed in the air, trying to breathe. His hand flew into the wall, cracking it.

“Woah! Aaron, Aaron,” Rossi said, walking to him to calm him down.

In a second, Hotch was calm, but with anger heating his glare. “Let’s get to work.”

—

You had no idea how long you had been there. Your ribs felt broken and your kidneys were bruised, you were sure. He hadn’t punched your face but slapped you instead, saying he didn’t want to “mess up your pretty face,” but the slaps had forced your cheek into your teeth, ripping the flesh.

And it was so, so cold. 

Your toes had started to turn blue and your thinking was beginning to slow. Your esophagus felt like a knife every time you heaved in a breath after he beat you.

You heard the door open and you lifted your head up weakly. You were stubborn and looked them in the eye every time they came inside the freezer. They would not kill you as a broken thing.

But when you saw the vest emblazoned with the FBI logo, your head fell to your chest, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Y/N!” Hotch’s voice rang out in the freezer as he rushed to you. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” you said, surprised when you felt warm hands on your face. They felt like fire, but you couldn’t move away.

“We’re gonna get you down from there, Y/N,” Rossi said, cutting at the ropes. When you fell, Hotch caught you, encircling his arms around your freezing torso.

He picked you up, one arm under your knees and one holding your body close to his. You curled your arms into his warm chest, pressed your face into his neck, and cried.

—

“Do you want some hot tea, Y/N?”

You chuckled, curling tighter into the hospital’s blanket. “I’m fine, Reid, but thank you.” The team was visiting you after the doctor had checked over you. Yes, your kidneys were bruised and a few ribs had been broken, but after the slow heating of your body to a decent temperature, you were feeling much better — at least, physically.

“Actually, I am feeling kind of tired, though,” you said quietly, yawning. 

“Of course, of course,” JJ said, her maternal instinct causing her to smooth the blanket around your feet. “Are you sure you don’t want another blanket?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said, smiling gently at her.

With that, the team left, each leaving you with a gentle expression of affection, from Rossi’s kiss to the forehead to Blake’s asking a nurse at the station outside your room to bring you a hot tea with cream and sugar.

And then there was Hotch.

You looked at him for a second before beckoning him to the chair at your side. “Thank you,” you said quietly, picking at the blanket beneath your fingers.

“Y/N.” You looked up when he took your hands — still cold — within your own. “You’re still cold,” he murmured softly at the goosebumps on your arms.

Your cheeks felt like fire. “I-I’m fine, really—“ but then you were silent as Hotch sat on the side of your hospital bed, pulling you into his side.

“I’ll get you another blanket in a second, but for right now, body heat will get you warmer quicker.”

“My hero,” you said under you breath, so quietly and thoughtlessly you prayed he didn’t hear you.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Y/N,” he said quietly into your hair, hand trailing up and down your arm. 

“Oh, there are other agents,” you said softly, laughing to hide your discomfort. “I’m sure there’s a better agent waiting for my spot.”

Hotch pulled away from you. As you mourned the loss of his heat, he turned to face you. You tucked your legs to the side as he put both hands on your shoulders, close to your neck so he could feel your skin. 

“While you are a great agent, you are so much more than that, Y/N,” he said, looking you directly in the eyes. When you ducked your head down to avoid eye contact, he tilted your head up with two fingers. “You help Jack with schoolwork, you make him laugh, you make me laugh,” he said with a chuckle, and you smiled in response. 

“I can’t imagine not having you over for dinner every other week, or seeing you at work. You are such a light,” he whispered, the hand underneath your chin crawling up to cup your cheek. 

“Aaron,” you whispered softly before he pressed his lips to yours, a gentle caress of lips. You curled a hand at the nape of his neck as he kissed your forehead. 

“I will always protect you.”

—

Six Months Later

“Jack!” you exclaimed, shaking snow out of your hair. “Oh, you little booger, I am so gonna get you!” You ran after him in your backyard, fully intent on tickling him in the snow.

“That wasn’t me! It was Dad!” he said, laughing as you caught him in a loose bear hug. He pointed to the snow-covered porch, where Aaron was standing in a charcoal sweater. A patch of snow was missing beside him.

“Oh, Aaron Hotchner, you are so getting payback! Jack, you with me?” You looked at Jack, who nodded conspiratorially. You both rushed him.

Hours later, Jack was asleep in the guest room after a mug of hot cocoa. You and Aaron were cuddled underneath a blanket on the couch, two half-drank glasses of red wine on the coffee table.

Aaron interlaced your fingers together and brought your knuckles to his lips. You kissed him on his jaw, feeling the light stubble tickle your lips.

“You know, I’m kind of glad I got kidnapped back in Alabama,” you said quietly, turning to face Aaron on his lap.

“Really?” he said, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling and kissing his cheek. “I never would have been brave enough to make a move on your otherwise.”

“Excuse me!” he said, kissing your nose. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that made the move on you.” He pushed you lightly on your back into the couch cushions.

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t been abducted, we never would have been in that situation,” you said, giggling as he leaned over you.

“Well, I guess I have to even out the playing field, then, huh?” He stood up from the couch and walked away. You laid there, wondering what he was up to. You were so lucky. Your eyes slid shut as you smiled.

“Y/N.” You opened your eyes to see Aaron on one knee, a velvet box in his hand.

“A-Aaron?” you whispered, sitting up, feeling tears in your eyes.

“I was going to wait to take you to dinner, maybe ask you on Christmas Day, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” He opened the box to reveal a rose gold band dotted with y/birthstone, a diamond set in the middle. “Y/F/N M/N L/N, will you marry me?”

You launched at him, knocking him back onto the floor. “Yes, yes, yes!” You kissed him, cradling his head with your hands. “Aaron, I love you so much,” you whispered between kisses.

“And I love you, Y/N.” He brought you both into sitting positions, taking your hand to slip the ring on your finger.

“Oh man! Dad, I thought you were gonna wait for me!” Jack ran down the stairs in his pajamas.

“You knew and you kept it from me?” you exclaimed as Jack came over to the two of you. 

“Can I go get mine, Dad? Can I?”

Aaron nodded and Jack went racing up the stairs.

“What does he mean, his?” you asked. Aaron shook his head and gestured to Jack who was in front of you, a slender box in his hands.

“I hope you like it, Y/N,” he said as he looked at the floor, suddenly shy. When you opened it, your eyes watered again. It was a necklace with a book pendant and a pencil pendant. “Because you help me with reading and writing,” he said, shyly looking at you.

“Oh, Jack,” you said, bringing him close to you in a hug. His small arms wrapped around your neck, Aaron’s arms wrapping around the both of you, and you had never felt so warm.


End file.
